The Iguana

In November I attended a friends’ birthday dinner in NYC. I was seated across from two guys and beside one of my best friends. I started talking to the guy in front of me and we really seemed to be getting along. I glanced at his hands and saw no ring. To clarify I asked, “Do you have a wife and kids like your friend beside you does?” He responded no but that he is divorced. Knowing he was single I flirted with him a little and then invited him out for drinks with my two girlfriends as we wanted to change locations. He came along and really just blended in so well with my friends. We kept in contact throughout the weekend and he kept asking to take me out. I reminded him that I did not live in New York so going for dinner might be a little complicated. He surprised me by responding “Well then how about Friday? I’ll fly to you and take you out for dinner”! I was totally taken aback as this is extremely nice for someone to do! I of course accepted, and we met up on Friday. We sat at dinner for almost 5 hours just talking. Afterwards, we stopped at a bar and then went to meet up with 3 of my friends. One of my friends had already met him and the other two embraced him for how fun and easy-going he was! The night began dying down and a guy invited one of my girlfriends to an after-party. My date looked over, observed the guy, and said to my friend:

“Why would you want to go there? That guy looks like he owns cats…”

My friend taking this personally, turned to our other friend and asked: “Am I really going after a guy who looks like he has cats?”

Our friend never missing a beat responded “Why would you listen to what he has to say? He looks like he has a pet Iguana”

So now we have his nickname. We’ve all heard the expression of owners resembling their pets so I’d like you to vividly picture what someone who owns an iguana would look like. Squinty beady eyes, short torso, and most likely up to no good….but I’ll get to that point soon enough.

Iguana returned to NYC as he only came for 24 hours. The communication between us got a bit distant. I, of course, went through my usual thought process of the grocery list of things that could be wrong with me that made him lose interest. However, he then reached out asking if I would like to join him on his upcoming business trip to London. I had work the first two days he was going to be there so I offered to fly out the Friday night (since there were only overnight flights). I would arrive Saturday morning and we could spend 24 hours together in London. Absurd I know…but I had never been to London and I thought maybe there was something between us. He asked if I could book my own flight and then he would send me the money. On a Side note, this is red flag numero uno: If a guy can’t put your flight on his credit card it is either because he is extremely busy (Typically these busy bees have an assistant though to book said flights) or because someone else has access to his credit card statements. I’m crazy enough to agree to go on a trip with someone I’ve only known for 3 weeks but I’m not crazy enough to pay my own way there! I looked up the amount, told him it was booked, received the money and then actually booked it; but leaving the Monday instead of the Sunday like he originally thought.

I arrived at the Conrad London, St James hotel exhausted. I had slept on the plane, but that was “plane sleep” which I count as up there with groggy morning snoozing, not to mention the five-hour time difference. I had been in contact with him upon landing so was a little surprised when I knocked on his door at 11am and he was basking in his hungover glory. May I add that he is forty-two years old. Disregarding his state, I bounded in full of energy excited to see him. We shared a few cuddles then he wanted to get room service and go back to bed. Being my ever accommodating self, I assured him that was not a problem. Having lived in numerous cities alone I didn’t mind going off and exploring on my own. I went out, took in the city, and posted pictures to my social media. One to always create my own entertainment, I began renaming landmarks such as Westminster Abbey alerting my followers Notre-Dame was looking great!!

(See attached picture, beside The Singapore Flyer.)

I arrived back at the hotel around 5pm. To no surprise, he was still sleeping. Knowing I take long to get ready and we had a business dinner for him that night, I decided I’d begin my process. I’d isolated myself in the bathroom so as not to disturb him, but my consideration for the shared space was one-sided. The Iguana’s phone started going off, and it was on “loud”. I don’t know anyone who actually keeps their phone on loud but as noted he’s 42 so maybe he’s losing some of his senses. He was giggling like a little school girl and I patiently endured an hour of hearing incessant “whoosh/ping”. At this point it was clear to me he was not texting a guy or casual friend. Red flag numero dos. Me having been the angel that I am, did not want to put on music as it might have disturbed him from his hungover slumber. However, he had no problem “pinging/whooshing” to his heart’s content! God must’ve heard my prayers because eventually, it stopped. Only for the Iguana to have changed gears and begin BLASTING TOOL! (a TOOL song for context: https://youtu.be/5ClCaPmAA7s) Now, something I’ve learnt about Tool fans…(actually meaning this particular one)…is that it is ALL they listen to. The only band. At all. Ever! I really wasn’t sure which option was worse at this point. Belatedly the Iguana was ready and we were out the door to dinner!

I was optimistic when headed to dinner, thinking he’s young and fun, I’m young and fun, a business dinner on a Saturday night in England? Sounds young and fun. Well, how naive of me to have such a thought. We were joined by three other men, all older, and more boring than my father. My father does not use the Lord’s name in vain nor has he ever been drunk in his life. I wish that had been the most surprising event of the evening but startling enough, it was not. I guess when he briefed me on the dinner plans he forgot to mention that I was also receiving a seat to the Iguana Show.  

The purpose of the dinner was for him to meet a potential investor and recruit him as a client. The Iguana decided he was going to take a “cultured” approach. I guess he missed the Brexit memo, assuming England to still be part of the European Union where the use of French might gain him some points. The term he chose to emphasize his point was “Crème of the le Crème.” I practically fell off my chair. I looked at the potential client and he had not batted an eye! I honestly was aghast that someone could butcher such a simple expression to that extent. Maybe because French is my second language I’m being biased. In my opinion, if you don’t know how to properly say something, don’t say it. This follows the same guidelines taught in kindergarten that if you don’t have anything nice to say…well don’t follow my example and put it in a blog. It quickly became apparent he actually believed himself to be the most cultured person in the room and began recounting his travel stories. He took a lot of pride in his recent trip to “Hung Kung”. I think I began internally twitching at this point and decided to make a personal drinking game. Drinking every time he spoke like a privileged white sorority girl who spent a semester abroad in “barthelona”.

Finally, dinner ended and he and I went to a bar for a few drinks. I was totally thrown off at this point by everything but he began redeeming himself once we were just us. He had chosen The Scotch of St James bar and it was exactly the change of pace I needed. I told him my flight was actually on Monday and not the next day like his and so he offered to extend the room for me to stay an extra night without worrying. He returned to NYC the next day, everything seeming fine and then communication got distant again. At this point, he was in North Carolina to visit his mom for Thanksgiving and then headed to Miami for Art Basel. When we finally reconnected I told him I would also be in Miami that weekend. He got super excited and we planned to see each other while there. We met up on the Saturday night, I met more of his friends and everything was good. He decided he wanted to have a heart to heart and talk about feelings. He went into detail about his ex and his failed marriage and all their complications. I was just sitting there absorbing it all like a little sponge. Normally I would be the one on an emotional drunken spiral but I gladly let him take this moment. He shared how he hadn’t been looking for anything serious before meeting me. That he was confused because he didn’t want to miss this opportunity to be with me but he also didn’t feel like he was ready for anything. I agreed with him and assured him I also didn’t think this would be the best time and that he needed to take time for himself. I did however say that if we were still in the same position a few months down the line we could have this conversation again. The next day I went to a day party and decided I didn’t feel like leaving. I texted him asking if he was staying another night, he said yes and asked if I wanted to stay another night as well. I agreed and he booked me a new return flight. I was pleasantly surprised and once again we were on good terms and left happy when returning to our own cities.

Now things started getting a little weird. I was back in NYC the weekend after and even though we had spoken about seeing each other, he did not message me at all. There was no communication from my arrival on Friday, and he didn’t respond to my text or phone call on Sunday. He did then text me this the following Monday…

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I guess I am unaware they now sell edibles that last 72 hours. So needless to say, I did not see him. Things were weird between us but he was very apologetic and asked to come visit me. He said he would finalize a date and let me know. He kept saying dates and then not following through. I got to the point of being over the whole thing. Don’t tell me something if you’re not going to follow through. He reached out again asking what my plans were for New Years. I told him I was not sure and was debating options. He offered to fly me out to NYC knowing I would be staying with my best friend. He went on to tell me he had a private event New Year’s Eve but he could see me other than that. Well, I know the only way something is a “private event” is that you’re “privately” with someone else. However, I get a trip to New York and get to see my best friend so I’m being optimistic about the situation. We spoke briefly on Sunday, of course, he was hungover and was unsure if he’d be able to see me later on. Not hearing anything new from him, I landed and met up with two of our mutual friends. One of our friends sent the Iguana a selfie and within minutes he texted, asking me to come over. Apparently, he had just gotten back from the movies and was feeling fine now. I begrudgingly headed over and things were okay. He left first in the morning and I slept in a little longer. Before leaving on Monday morning though, I made his bed. IMG_1761

We texted a little throughout the day and then it petered out. Forward to Tuesday 8pm (New Years Eve), he texted me that he just got in the door and that his bed was so cute! Now I knew he didn’t go home at all since I left Monday morning. His next message to me was a generic “Happy New Year” at midnight. After midnight on New Years Eve, my phone got stolen. My friend messaged him on Instagram from both of our accounts and I texted him the next day on Wednesday. I finally got a response THURSDAY MORNING. The Iguana wanted to know if I would like to go for dinner later that day. I had been there since Sunday, had barely seen him once and was leaving the next day, so I agreed.

Now it was Thursday evening before going to meet him. My friend shared with me that she investigated and confirmed he was with a girl on NYE. She knew the girls’ name but couldn’t find her on Instagram. Oh but this little clue was all I needed. Hold the line, I got this. I remembered having seen a picture he posted with 3 other people in October. Two of the people were obviously a couple so I assumed the other woman in the picture to be his date. I had noticed she also had commented on a couple of his pictures. I expertly found her page and sure enough, she had posted a selfie of them together on NYE. This was the confirmation I had needed, that I hadn’t been reading too much into things and my suspicions were now validated. However this was not the time nor place, I would return to her profile later. I finished getting ready and went to dinner. While at dinner I told him I felt that he didn’t prioritize me, and he brought up our convo in Miami, saying “Sounds like you’re looking for a relationship?” I responded that I was not but I was looking for a baseline of respect that I would expect from anyone I speak to on a regular basis. We’ve now established twice that he is not looking for anything serious…..because as it turns out, he already had someone serious.

We went to his place after dinner…THE BED WAS STILL MADE.  Mind you it was Thursday night, I made it Monday morning. The Iguana tried to tell me he slept on the couch…but everyone knows iguanas like the dark. I walked by the computer and saw a printed 4×4 picture of them from an event…Did I not notice this before? Was it new? I’m a very intuitive person and extremely observant, how did I miss this? I had previously checked one bathroom but not the other…so I headed to the unexplored one and opened the mirrored cabinet… et voilà.

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My mind began racing, clearly, this was far more serious than I had thought. I was beyond confused. Sure, there had been some red flags but I hadn’t expected anything to this magnitude. We had been to three countries together, four cities, and had been seeing each other for two months. The Iguana initially pursued me. He told me he wasn’t ready for anything serious but didn’t want to miss his chance with me. Could it be I was not his “Crème of the le crème”? I decided to handle this best I knew how, casually giving him a hug goodbye, and not letting on in the least that I knew anything. I left and it was game on…Not for anyone else but for myself.

Hello Instagram, we meet again. Let’s do it right this time.

This girl lived out her life on social media and I’m grateful she did! Apparently, they went on their first documented trip together in May, it was to Milan, I wonder how he pronounced that one. They also went to “Hung Kung”….and North Carolina for Thanksgiving to visit his mother, and last week to Florida with his siblings for Christmas. My deep dive into her world was more so just extra reassurance for myself. I had no reason to say anything to him as we weren’t exclusive. However, I do believe there’s a difference between casually dating someone and having a full-on girlfriend. She posts about them non-stop and who knows how long they were dating before she began posting to social media. She’s spent the holidays with his closest family members and evidently, they have reached the point of saying “I love you” to each other. It was shocking for me that someone could be leading such a double life and lying so much. All things considered, in the end, it seems that by being the “second” girl they meet I have a much easier “out” than their “main” girlfriend. That someone’s actions on that level are such a reflection of who they are and issues they’re personally going through and not a reflection of those around them. I could only hope she is aware and okay with the situation or becomes aware to be able to make her choice. Clearly, he is not the “Crème of the le crème”.

Anything Is Possible

While I was making plans to meet Blondie, (My post from December) I had matched with another guy on Bumble. We Facetimed after exchanging some messages on the app and then texted non-stop for approximately 48 hours. We shall call him Rolex for his affinity of Rolex watches. Rolex told me how he really believed us to have a connection, he could see himself bringing me back to meet his parents and genuinely couldn’t wait to meet me. I agreed that we seemed to have many things in common and was looking forward to meeting him as well. Then Rolex sent me a picture of his mom.

“I think the reason why I find you so attractive is because you remind me of my mother.”

I am not sure whether that was incredibly sweet of him because clearly he values and respects his mother or if he has an Oedipus complex. I looked past his bizarre obsession with his mother and we made plans to meet on Thursday night.

Wednesday, Rolex messaged me saying he completely forgot but one of his friends was hosting a house party. The house party would be in the Valley with cocktail attire and everyone had to wear a wig. So I needed to find a wig.

All my dresses were back home as I was very limited to travelling with only 6 suitcases. I had slim pickings for attire and I’m not someone who casually keeps wigs around. I messaged a few girlfriends and thankfully one of them had done some modelling, so had a few. I went over on Thursday and tried them on. Creature of habit that I am, I choose one that was similar to my natural hair colour and now named myself Svetlana.

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Rolex arrived to pick me up, let’s note here he drove a very nice car (Mercedes-Benz AMG GT), which I notice but of course do not mention. We put our wigs in the back and headed to Sunset Marquis Bar for a few drinks before heading to the party. Things were great so far, we both got martinis, and ordered some food. He noted that he was impressed by my manners, that I knew proper etiquette and that he was really enjoying my company. I thought well great, this is going well and he’s genuine.

I guess the food hadn’t been enough as he decided to present me with a compliment sandwich. You know, when someone says two nice things to counteract a negative comment? Looking at my skin, he goes, “You really need to get a tan.” I’m aware without a spray tan (which I do tend to do often) that I am as white as a sheet of paper. I do not  however, understand the numerous amount of guys who believe it is their duty to tell me I am too pale. Regardless, I’m used to this comment at this point in LA and tell him a tan would not go with my Svetlana aesthetic of the evening.

We asked for the bill and he ordered an Uber to take us to the party. We stepped outside and he went to grab the wigs from his car before jumping into the waiting Uber. Our Uber driver seemed fascinated with the car Rolex drove and they began a conversation. The drinks must have started to hit him and he began making rude comments towards me. Maybe this was a testosterone-fueled bonding ritual as I’ve previously observed animalistic males to partake in. I do not know. My pale skin was addressed again, amongst numerous other comments. Trying to make light of the situation, I jokingly asked the driver:

“Omg, do you hear how he’s talking to me?”

Uber driver: “Did you see his car? He can say whatever he wants!”

Testosterone bonding solidified.

I’m absolutely appalled at this point but we’re headed to the Valley which is at best, 30 minutes from West Hollywood. Being an extremely social person, I assume once we get to the party things will go well.

We arrived and I got introduced to a few girls who all reiterated they were shocked to see Rolex with anyone as he never brings girls around. I took this as a compliment and was having a good time. It seemed that once the introductions concluded it was as if I were to fend for myself. Somewhere throughout the evening, Rolex decided he was more interested in a blonde girl and spent a large part of the night speaking with her. I didn’t necessarily mind as I bopped around, and made friends with several other people. A few noise complaints later the party was dying down and we headed back to Rolex’s house. Things were going well again, we had a few drinks and continued talking. He even mentioned how he didn’t want to try to sleep with me as he actually respected me (lol). I appreciated this and we went to sleep.

The next day we woke up and I had to go get my dog from the sitters. Asking if I was free to spend the day with him he agreed to drive me and then we could go for lunch. As we got into the car his dad called him. He connected the phone to Bluetooth and told his father he wanted him to meet me. I wished his father Shabbat Shalom and we had a great conversation. I was so taken aback by him wanting his father to know about me so soon and the other nice things he’d said in the last 24 hours. After spending the afternoon together, he dropped me off, to then call me moments later. He had called just to tell me he missed me already. I thought that was very cute, however it was Shabbat so I assumed he wouldn’t be on his phone much that evening.

Not only was he not on his phone much that evening he was not on his phone much with me at all ever again, except for Instagram. A few weeks later I got a DM from him.

 

I was completely thrown off that someone would have the audacity to send that! I knew I had gained a few pounds but still fit into my size 26 jeans. This little twerp was 5’9 on a good day which had me towering over him in heels. I decided the best approach was just not to answer him.

I had worn a pair of his sweatpants home that first day and he began messaging me for them back. I ignored his messages based on his previous ones insinuating I loose weight. Also, I knew one of his best friends’ owned the company so he could easily get another pair. He started bombarding my phone however and saying he “didn’t take me for a thief.” I may have been considered “fat” by his standards but to be associated with the word “thief” is just cringey. I obviously didn’t want to see the trolls’ face so I dropped them off with his doorman and then texted him he could go downstairs to pick them up.

Update: I hadn’t spoken to him since January but had seen via Instagram he now had a girlfriend. In June, completely out of the blue and having had no communication with him in six months I received a text message. He hadn’t written anything but instead sent an image. It was a picture of a naked girl from the back, only seeing her hair but not her face. Immediately I thought why is he sending me a picture of his girlfriend? Then I zoomed in on the hands and realized it was all my jewelry. This guy had taken pictures of me without my knowledge AND still had them on his phone. I responded “wtf” but didn’t receive a reply. Disgusted but happy that I was not his current girlfriend who unfortunately was dating a complete snake.

Update 2.0: Having not even dated a year, they are now engaged. The ring is nice though.

Blondie

During my June 2018 trip to LA, before moving there, I matched with several people on Bumble and began conversing with a few. I was at the airport, about to board my flight and was exchanging messages with a cute little blonde guy. Note, I am not attracted to blondes. I find they tend to look young and innocent. I look young because of Botox and well anyone to call me innocent most likely hasn’t heard me speak. That being said, genuinely I am neither of the two, so I don’t look for such qualities in someone I want to date. I am aware I have completely projected these qualities onto male blondes and for all I know they could be Jeffrey Dahmer, however, moving on…

Blondie began calling me while I was back in Canada. He wanted to FaceTime and chat, and all those things that would genuinely excite a girl if she were interested. Remember however I clearly am not a rational person and don’t like when guys are too nice or as I’ve already presumed him to be innocent, kind and young. I answered periodically over the next few months when he would call or text, catching me at a time when I was bored. Sometimes I wouldn’t answer for two months, sometimes it was two minutes, just unintentionally keeping it exciting. I had decided throughout these months I was going to move back to LA come November. Blondie was very excited about this news and started sending me websites for apartment listings and being innocent, kind and nice…or being a good person, whatever…I’ll leave that to your interpretation. I appreciated his kindness and conversed with him a little more frequently. He knew when I was landing and invited me to go out with him and his friends. Knowing I’d be exhausted I offered to meet him the next day.

Blondie and I both lived in West Hollywood so decided to grab some food and drinks at a nearby spot. We had maybe two drinks each and maybe a burger or sandwich, nothing wild. Honestly, I wish I could remember the conversation we had, but I can’t even remember what I ate, and I associate all my memories with food.

You may at this point wonder why I always put myself in such awkward positions. Frankly, I often ask myself the same questions at night before my sleeping pill kicks in. However, this time I was able to rationalize that I was, and still am, new to LA. Putting myself in boring or awkward situations all the fucking time just to meet people. I may hate the guy I go on a date with, but he may have a cool girlfriend I may end up being friends with.. you never know. Yes, that sounds cruel, but it’s LA! Los Angeles is like an alternate universe where you get a free pass for the majority of behaviour that would otherwise classify you as an asshole.

Back to Blondie…The bill came and you would have thought it was blondies’ first time going anywhere besides Chick-Fil-A (I would’ve preferred that tbh). Opening the bill folder, he let out a gasp. Immediately I felt awkward and confused by this little outburst and asked if everything was okay. He assured me everything was okay…except for the amount. Apparently, he was not expecting our meal to total “so much”. I quickly did some fucked up version of mental math in my head.

Basically this:

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I came to the conclusion it could not be too expensive so I reached into my wallet and took out a 100$ bill. I extended it to him saying “Here, let me help”

Blondie: “Oh yeah wow thanks! I’ll take care of the tip”

Now I don’t like the phrase “Just the tip” in any circumstance, let alone when it comes to a bill! But instead, I smile, nod and say not a problem! I understand by extending a large bill to him (I didn’t have a smaller bill to offer) it could give the impression I was willing to cover the whole thing, but I did emphasize the word “help”. To me, that insinuates at least splitting the amount between us. As a general rule, disregarding gender roles in dating, I believe whoever suggests the date should be responsible to take care of the bill at the end. If you can’t treat, don’t eat.

So here we are again, I’ve put myself in an awkward position, not my ideal but I have no friends. I’d started drinking, so I knew I could at least entertain myself given most cases so I agreed to go for another drink with him.

We headed up LaCienega to Sunset boulevard where there are plenty of little bars. We entered one, grabbed two drinks (leaving my wallet in my purse this time) and sat down at a high top table. We began talking, well actually, I began listening. I had no interest in talking as I knew that would hinder how entertaining I found this experience. Everything was going just swell until Blondie decided he wanted to get emotional. We most likely were only three drinks into the evening at this point. Enough to make him emotional but not nearly enough for me to be tolerating this. I really do wish I was making this next part up but unfortunately, my initial judgements of him seemed true. He started talking about how all the girls in his past had used him or treated him like shit. I felt so bad, going into life coach-mode trying to give him some Tony Robbins-esque speech about how he needs to love himself. (Obviously drinking, I wouldn’t be surprised if I quoted Justin Bieber’s song) That approach clearly didn’t work as he then started crying. It wasn’t a casual cry either, it was to the point I had to go get him napkins. Between sobs, he shared how no girl he had liked, had ever, liked him back as much. Now I was in a tricky position. There’s a part of me who hates to see anyone upset, so naturally, my first thought was “Fuck, now I have to date this guy so he feels better”. Then the realistic part of me was like “Fuck, I’m one of those girls.” Initially, I was grateful when Blondie interrupted my mental weighing of the pros and cons but that gratitude was short-lived. Blondie was requesting we take a picture together so that he could send it to his ex to make her jealous (Cue eye roll). At least the tears had been wiped away as I guess the idea of vengeance warmed him.

We moved to the bar next door, grabbing a table on the terrace to enjoy our martinis. Coincidentally, two guys he knew were also at this bar. We had greeted them briefly when we entered as they were with a rowdy group of girls. I guess their flow of cocaine dwindled down because the girls left soon after. No longer having an entourage, 60-year-old Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum came and joined us. As I mentioned we were sitting outside so I still had my jacket on. It started getting busier, heat lamps were on, I was drinking and so I was warming up. Tweedle-dee sat down beside me while Tweedle-dum stood, being too incoherent to sit down as his high would hit him all at once. To be honest I think he would’ve fallen forward onto his face. We were all talking, I was making jokes about god knows what and then Tweedle-dee took off his jacket. This helped me realize that I was also hot so I put my jacket on the back of my chair. Ohhhhhhh no no no unbeknownst to me I had broken a cardinal rule. Blondie had more things in common with Jeffrey Dahmer than I thought.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Me:

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Him: Heeeeeee took off his jacket, youuuuuu took off your jacket…am I missing something????

I clearly knew this was my cue to exit, Tears were a nice touch and I genuinely felt bad for the guy initially. However, we hadn’t even spent more than a few hours together in person and to get that possessive is not a good look. I was down 100$ on an evening that didn’t even compare to the happiness a 30cent pack of Ramen could bring me. I apologized and excused myself to go home. A couple of weeks later I received a DM on Instagram insulting me and telling me I treat everyone like shit, he had put that part in CAPS just to emphasize how bad of a person I am.

Afternote: I often find it interesting how two people can be present in the exact same situation and have completely different experiences and interpretations. I try to be as self-aware as I possibly can be but nothing in my life has prepared me for dating in LA. This was the second dating situation I had in LA and I’ve now started to backtrack since my two original posts.

The Real Spray Tan Victim

In June 2018, one of my best friends’ and I decided to attend Pride in Los Angeles. We live in different cities but both love LA so we thought it would be the perfect time to reunite! I arrived at the airport on time, made my flight and arrived at LAX.  I headed to grab a coffee while I waited for my friends’ flight to land as we had scheduled our flights to have similar arrivals. As I was ordering my Iced coffee as one does upon arriving in the land of basic bitches, I got a text: “Hey love, work is crazy, won’t make my flight. I’ll meet you in LA tomorrow xoxo”. Alright. Splendid. I used to live in LA 2015-2016 so I figured I’d busy myself with my old routines and go to my favourite makeup stores in the valley. Well, I forgot I don’t like shopping and tend to be in and out of places quickly so that plan soon exhausted itself. Onto plan B, I downloaded Bumble.

It was approximately 6pm in LA which was 9pm eastern time. I busied myself trying to find a date for the evening as I’d rather not waste a night in LA and I’m not one for drinking alone. I matched with a few guys and set up a few dates for the next 24 hours. Now my preferred method of approach on bumble is to say something ridiculous and see how they respond. Good looks in LA are as common as a tourist taking a picture in front of the “Hollywood” sign. I often don’t pay much attention to someone’s outward appearance until the conversation truly captures my interest. I matched with a tall brown-haired guy, posing beside a surfboard in his picture, his bio read that he was “looking for something genuine…as if that were to exist in LA”. I thought that to be clever and sent a message purposely butchering his one-syllable name. After a few messages he called me out, “you’re way too nice to be from LA, where are you from?” I told him I was Canadian to which I received “Sucks, seemed like there could’ve been something there. Best of luck”. Now I was like hold on, wait a second, I don’t like to be dismissed and am always up for a challenge.

“I’m here for 5 days we could meet up for a drink”

Him: “Nobody wants to fall in love and then get on a plane”

Me: “Whoever said something about love? I said a drink…”

Him: “Okay fine, meet me at the SLS at 7pm”

Me: “I need more than 15 minutes to get ready, can we do 7:30?”

Him: “Just let me know next time you’re in America”

I was so annoyed that this guy kept being so up and down. I responded that I wasn’t aware 15 minutes would be such a deal-breaker but I’d be up to meet him at that time if he changed his mind. Acting as if he was doing me a favour he messaged back
“Fine. We can do 7:30.” I finished getting ready and ordered an Uber. I’m an extremely punctual person and so assured I would arrive exactly at 7:30pm. Not sure why I was even going to meet this human at this point, feeling I’d forced myself upon him already. My uber pulled up to the SLS, as the time on my phone went from 7:29pm to 7:30pm and then a 310 number popped up.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, it’s 7:30, I’m on the steps of the SLS, where are you?”

Legitimately I do not know how I got out of the car but apparently, I did cause this story continues…

I stepped out of the car wearing Stuart Weitzman pearl-embellished heels, black pants, black bodysuit, a Hermes belt and Chanel purse. I saw he was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and converse. I had expected him to look like a douche but I was actually pleasantly surprised. Had I known him to be wearing converse I probably would’ve done the same. I thought to myself maybe he’s not as bad as he seemed. Wrong. We walked up to the table where he chose to sit on the opposite end from me and as far away as possible. He crossed his arms, stretched out his legs and with a “sup” nod said “tell me about yourself.”

I obviously never know how to answer this question. I don’t know how to define the lines of being inappropriate enough to show that I have a personality, but conservative enough not to offend them within five minutes.

I decided I’d go with the standard topics. I spoke about what I studied in university and the business I’d built for myself over the last three years. He raised his eyebrows after this, looked me up and down, and while gesturing to my accessories said: “So, you’re not an escort?” God must have spent extra time making him such a jaded character. I did not even know how to answer that but reassured him I was not. Mind you, we hadn’t even ordered our drinks yet. With the time difference, I had been up since 3am West Coast time so I ordered a Black Russian, convincing myself coffee liquor counted as coffee. He, of course, ordered a Johnnie Walker, no surprise there.

The conversation awkwardly continued. It picked up a little while sharing drunken stories from years ago, and I had hope that maybe this date was taking a turn for the better. But as the clock struck 10pm as if he had the pressure of Cinderella, he asked for the check and kindly offered to drive me home. I hadn’t even expected him to offer but gladly accepted. He pulled up to where I was staying and got out of his car to give me a hug goodbye. Then he redeemed his douchebag points as he peeled out and sped off like he was at the Indy 500.

I couldn’t figure this guy out for the life of me. So, instead of keeping any ounce of self-respect I may have had left, I decided to message him. Maybe this was my telltale Canadian side that people refer to as “being nice” or maybe this was just me being an idiotic female who made up a different story in her mind than the shared reality. Regardless, I thanked him for a nice evening out and told him I enjoyed my time with him. Keeping true to his Jekyll and Hyde nature he texted back “Np, me too, too bad we’ll never see each other again.”

Now you would assume the story to have ended there. At this point, it has already survived extinction twice based solely on the fact that I do not have a brain. Surprise surprise, it did not end there. As any millennial conversation goes, especially with anyone you find remotely interesting, we did the mature thing and continued conversing throughout the weekend exclusively using memes. Somehow the memes led us to be reunited Monday evening before my flight on Tuesday morning. I took an uber to his office in Santa Monica (If you guessed he had a white-collar job, you thought correctly) and we headed to happy hour.

This little date was off to a much better start. We were actually having a normal conversation and began sharing some personal stories. We both shared things about our exes and why our past relationships didn’t work out. I personally believe this is a good time in dating to address such topics. You learn a lot about another person from their past but nobody wants to hear about someone’s ex once they’ve developed feelings for the person. So once again, I believed things to be going well, we were at a point where I thought he’d understand my sense of humour. On this premise, I decided to show him a picture I had taken a couple of days before, sure that it would ensue a laugh.

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I guess I may have jumped the gun as he did not find the picture of my botched spray tan to be as endearing or hilarious as I thought it was. He remained stone-faced and his body language changed. To clarify, the above picture is with said spray tan and not a snapchat of Winnie Harlow.

We’d been together for about two hours now and as predictable as the first time, he asked for the bill, drove me home, and gave me a hug. As predictable as I am, I sent a thank you text. His response: “Neither of those were dates, they were both friend auditions. You made your intentions clear by talking about your ex and then showing me a picture of yourself without makeup. Nobody does that unless they’re trying to friend zone, wish you the best.”

And that ladies and gentleman is the mind fuck of trying to date in LA.

Ps. I still think it’s a hilarious picture and will continue showing it

Sweater Man

A few months ago, I was in New York. Apparently, I encountered a human who asked for my number to which I gave him my Instagram instead. Not surprisingly, I did not remember this encounter, but he reached out through a direct message saying he was coming to LA and would like to meet. After perusing his profile, I deemed him normal and so agreed.

I arrived to our scheduled encounter first and sat down outside the restaurant to wait.  Suddenly, I felt someone come up behind me and grab my shoulders, reminiscent of the way a creepy Uncle would at an annual family gathering. Immediately I thought to myself “Oh, he’s THAT kind of guy…the kind who thinks they’re absolutely hilarious while telling a dad joke that only makes them laugh”. I then got a chance to look at him in which he further validated my theory by having wrapped his sweater around his waist! In my opinion, either wear a jacket or don’t, but be committed, it’s called the weather app….use it.

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Awkward introduction out of the way, we went inside. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of restaurant this was, it was as if Mexican and Asian cuisines had had a baby. Sweater Man insisted we begin the evening by doing the tequila sampler. Not the biggest fan of tequila,   I agreed as long as we compromised for Mezcal. The waiter brought them over and I went to try the first one. As I was not raised by wolves I knew to sip it and not shoot it.

Sweater Man then exclaimed, “You’re not supposed to shoot it!!!”

Me “I didn’t, you can see there’s still half of it left in my glass”

Sweater Man, while wiping his brow, “Oh sorry, it looked like you were drinking it all!”

He then chuckled to himself as if he had just narrowly missed witnessing the most asinine thing. At that point, I was not only annoyed by his style but his pretentious attitude. As if reading my mind for the second time that evening, he decided to validate my presumptions. Sweater Man beckoned the waiter over as he wanted to further prove his alcohol knowledge. Pointing to the second Mezcal on the sampling flight he asked the waiter if he would be able to see the bottle. The waiter returned and handed the bottle to Sweater Man. Whenever I have previously been in this position, it was presumably because the patron wanted to see exactly what the bottle looked like or potentially take a picture for future reference. This was not the scenario I was about to be privy to however as Sweater man took the cap off the bottle, dabbed its’ cork into the palm of his hand and proceeded to rub his hands together. Opening up his hands, he took an exaggerated inhale breathing in the smell of the alcohol. While exhaling he proclaimed “Ah yes! This is a good one!” Let me just clarify, WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A RESTAURANT!!! The waiter and I stared at each other as if telepathically asking if this was a big joke…I don’t care if “That’s how you see if an alcohol is good based on the notes you smell in your hands” IT’S WEIRD!!! Just smell the damn drink. Also now he had tainted this bottle by rubbing the cap of it in his sweaty little palms!

Moving on, as if he hadn’t traumatized me or the waiter enough he asked the waiter to take a picture of us. I mean this isn’t even something I do when out with my girlfriends as I find it embarrassing. We had just met, how do you know you’ll even want to remember the person? Most people in LA don’t even save someones’ phone number until after the first date, let alone take a picture with them! Apparently, the picture didn’t cut it though because he then TOOK OFF HIS WATCH and asked if he could take a picture of me wearing it. The image of my little 6lbs Maltese dog peeing to mark his territory flashed in my mind. All I wanted to do was eat my dumplings and “sip” my drink.

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Alas, not trying to be rude I awkwardly obliged, he thanked me and sent the picture to a group chat with his friends. He then put his phone down on the table, leaned into it and STARTED VOICE TEXTING at the table. I get it, using Siri is easier but NOT IN PUBLIC. There were people around, I, nor they, need to hear you repeatedly yell into your phone “l o l”.

He spent a little more time on his phone and then looked up at me and said “prete”

Me: Pardon?

Him: “Prete”

Me: Sorry what?

Him: “PREEETE”

Me: Yeah, no… I just don’t get what you’re saying

Him: It means “ready” in French!

The fuck it does! He started waving his little phone in my face, google translate lighting up the screen saying “Look I’m learning French for you!” I explain the proper pronunciation. Then think “fuck it” and shoot my mezcal because at this point mama needs it.

Sweater Man seemed to not understand that I was not entertained by such a thing and continued googling words. He completely butchered the pronunciation of each word but would look at me as if I was the CRAZY one to not understand his Franglais. We had now reached a cycle of him alternating between voice texting his group chat and then yelling a word at me. Observing what was left of the tasting flight I knew there was not enough alcohol for me to tolerate this much longer.

Trying my best to not get up and leave I busied myself eating and drinking while he continued to talk about himself. This dinner had essentially become a monologue until he then took a pause. I assumed this was because he needed to take a breath, but he looked at my plate and said: “Wow you eat like a monster!” Wondering if I’d heard correctly, I responded “Pardon?” Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked him to clarify as he went on to tell me how it was not normal how much I ate, and he believed me to have an eating disorder of some kind. Confused, I simply stated, “I just really enjoy eating.” Apparently, this was not the right answer and he diagnosed me with an addiction to food.

Clearly, he did not suffer from the same “food addiction” as me, given the amount that still occupied his plate. I ordered myself another drink and braced myself to be diagnosed with another addiction. After a few long minutes, my drink arrived, this was very exciting for both of us for different reasons. I was excited because of my food and alcohol addiction, and he was excited because I had ordered a martini, which he could pick up and pretend like he was James Bond.

Him: Oh wow, I always want to order a Martini, but never knew how! What is this?

Me: I always get an extra dirty Vodka Martini with no Vermouth

Him: Oh, I could NEVER order that…

Me: Why?

He looked intensely at me, as if I had just asked if cows could fly and responded, “I can’t ask a waiter for something EXTRA Dirty…I’m a Man”

I held back my urge to gag as the waiter came to clear our plates. As he was clearing, he asked how everything was, of course the answer Sweater Man came out with was “It was the bomb dot com”.

 

Wacky Wednesday

On Tuesday while patiently waiting for my friend to finish doing a few things around the house, I decided to start using Bumble. I swiped right on a guy who seemed semi-funny, and decent looking. We started talking and found out we live approximately 3 blocks away from each other. He explained he had forgotten his ID at his friends’ house and that he would uber it to himself the following night and we could then go out for a drink.

Now Wednesday, He messaged me letting me know he did not go into work and so I could come over whenever. As much as I do drink, I am not an alcoholic nor do I see the need to begin drinking with a stranger at 3pm. That being said, we agreed I would meet him at his place at 5pm and then go out. I took my shower and got ready, meanwhile, my phone would just not stop vibrating.

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So now I had received two odd messages back to back. I was starting to reconsider heading over to his place. However, I had already committed and felt guilty cancelling so last minute. He offered to order me an uber, so I sent him the address of another place on my street and headed outside to wait for my ride.

I arrived at his place, (The Granville Towers on Crescent Heights where Marilyn Monroe briefly lived) and this kid was FULL of energy. I mean I sat down and he was practically bouncing off the walls, actually not practically…literally. He was bouncing up and down cross-legged on the couch before putting one leg down, pivoting and attempting to open a nearby door handle with his foot. Please reference the above photo to understand the creepy lighting situation also going on at that moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I can be eccentric myself but I was extremely overwhelmed by this intense encounter. I tried to ask him, as casually as one could, if he was on anything? He said he had taken some shake to increase brainpower. I am not sure if he was referring to nootropics? I was definitely leaning more towards prescription or illicit drugs. Not knowing how to process this, I moved on. His antics continued to which I asked “Do you have Aspergers?”,  He turned, looked at me, and said “Well according to the last documentary I watched, it’s actually Asperg-“é”, you’re French, you should know this. But no, I do not have “Aspergé””.  I was racking my brain at this point trying to figure out what was going on with this guy. I get that my questions could’ve come across as offensive, but this situation was so mind-boggling, I was trying to rationalize it in my mind! Of course, my approach was then to up the ante on the offensive questions.

“Do you have turrets?”

Him: No, I have AIDS! Kidding, that’s the turrets talking, kidding I don’t have turrets.

I took a deep breath, drank a sip of wine and questioned my life decisions that had brought me to this moment. I’ll note here, that upon arrival I had insisted we switch wine glasses as they had already been filled. I had been skeptical, but suffice to say the “nootropics” were not in the wine.

Coming back to reality and realizing I had barely eaten, I asked if we could go get food. He responded that he would get his friend to order food because he did not have Postmates (LA version of Uber Eats) himself. I, thinking like a normal human, asked him why he did not want to just download said app as it would be a lot easier than asking a friend. He made up some story about how adding a credit card to an app was hard…

Him: My friend ordered chicken, spinach and broccoli, it’s on the way.

Me: Oh, did you not order for yourself?

Him: Well no? I asked my friend to order ME food. I’m not going to tell him we’re two people and for him to order for both of us….You’ll just eat what he would’ve sent for me.

*Food arrived*

I ate my food, sharing chicken pieces with my dog, who I of course, brought along with me. I asked if he wanted any, he declined.

*Ended meal, returned to sitting on the couch*

I am not sure what transpired from sitting on the floor, eating off the coffee table too when I returned to the couch that changed the dynamic, but he then went to grab my ass. He had been extremely touchy all night but I had made it clear and repeatedly expressed I was not interested in anything physical. He said a little spiel about how he wanted to spend time with me, and also didn’t want it to be physical. He then backed up his point by reaching his hand behind my back and like a prepubescent 12-year-old boy unhooked my bra. Astonished, I reattached the hooks and reiterated I wasn’t comfortable hooking up and maybe it would be a good idea if I left. He protested, repeating no, no, no, I want to spend time with you! I’ll behave…AS HE REACHED TO PULL OFF MY PANTS! I was done. I stood up, looked at him and emphasized this was not what I came for. Clearly, we had both read the situation differently and I was going to go.

Him: I thought you wanted to hook up? You let me unhook your bra?

Me: I did not let you unhook my bra, you took that upon yourself. You doing something, after I told you I didn’t want to hook up with you, does not then make me want to hook up with you! I’m going to go…

*He turned around, went to the bathroom, (He did not open it with his foot this time) and proceeded to talk to himself behind the door*

*I pranced to the entrance, grabbed my boots and began putting them on*

He emerged from the bathroom, walked up to me, and with a quizzical look on his face, asked “That’s it? You’re really going to leave me?” Trying to ensure the situation did not escalate, I suggested we go for a drink outside at a bar, he agreed and said he would go change.

A few minutes later he returned, walked up to me again, this time grabbing both of my arms. He then patted them and said, “Okay, goodbye”.

I was beyond confused but did not hesitate for a second. I grabbed my dog and practically ran down the staircase. Walking home, I began thinking about how weird that had been but thank god I left before it had gotten weirder. Apparently, I spoke too soon as my phone started going off…

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After sending me such heartwarming messages he then proceeded to call me for the next three hours, all the while still messaging. I do not live in a hotel nor is there one on my street, however I think at one point he had taken an uber to my area and was walking around. I do not know for sure as I was hiding inside my apartment, already having blocked him on bumble. I then received a voicemail, saying he couldn’t find me on the app and would like to talk to me, including if I were to message him tomorrow “he would be normal”!!

I then woke up to a text saying “What happened last night”.

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Moral of the story:

-Never go to someones’ house the first time to meet them

-Never give them your real address

-Go with your initial feelings

-Share your location with numerous friends at all times

-Bring your dog on all dates

Dating App Don’ts

#1. Don’t Edit / Facetune / Snapchat Filter your face

So you Download an App and you’re like okay, let me put my best “Face” forward. I have to use parentheses of course because of the obscene amount of filters some people use. So I guess that is easily number one. Do not filter or edit your face/body. Or at the bare minimum remain recognizable. Unless you’re trying to be on the next episode of Catfish, what are you doing? Do you never plan on meeting the person in real life? Do you think by that time they’ll have “fallen” for the “real” you? Come on, let’s be realistic and address the fact people are using apps for the primary reason of being able to easily filter out exactly what they don’t want!

Ps. If someones’ first picture is with a Snapchat filter, it is to be assumed you’re ugly or conceited, why else would you want to “amp” up your face?

#2 You are not god’s gift to this green earth, have a seat.

The girls who sit down and write a novel about how they are queens waiting for their king, how they are a gem and need to be treasured….god I can’t even continue. Self Confidence is attractive, yes if anything it is a must to a certain extent. But you are not fooling anyone with that speech. You come across as needy, insecure and just straight-up crazy.

#3 Know Your Angles

Don’t take pictures from underneath, just don’t. Nobody wants to see up your nostrils and you just gave yourself a double chin…not cute. Don’t take photos straight on, you look like a sociopath, ie. “mugshot”.

#4 Do not list your likes/dislikes

Casually listing your interests is one thing, but don’t write 23 things that you are looking for in someone and 65 things you don’t like. Even worse than writing likes/dislikes is putting them in emoji form. How much time did you spend looking for each one? How do you even know those emojis exist? Nobody has time to read your high maintenance bio. Try Match.com you may have better luck there…better yet christianmingle.

#5 First Questions

By all means, never, ever, let these be your first questions/responses

-So, what are you looking for on here

-Wow I thought we matched by accident

-I didn’t expect you to actually message me

-Are you real?

-Send nudes

-Netflix and chill?

-I just told my friends we matched

And please don’t quadruple message someone…that’s a sure way to get blocked.

If you are unsure of someone’s heritage, just ask, but don’t assume.

#6 Don’t copy and paste what you saw on the internet

Seeing someones bio say “Recommended by 5 out of 5 people who recommend things” is a sure way to be swiped left. It shows you have no creativity and can’t come up with your own content. It also shows you think it’s okay to steal someone else’s’ jokes. Which it isn’t…that’s called plagiarism, look it up.

#7 Don’t Explain your pics

If you have to put an explanation, don’t put it.

#8 No Shirtless/ Gym / Thong/ Mirror selfies

Just don’t. You look desperate and narcissistic.

#9 Connecting your Instagram

If you’re going to connect your Instagram you should have more followers than following. I understand this sounds ridiculous but it shows more people care about you than you care about social media. It makes you seem like you’re not a couch potato masturbating to Instagram models all day. Don’t have more than a few selfies. If you’re a guy you shouldn’t have more selfies on your page than a girl would. Don’t have multiple pictures of basically the exact same thing. Be mindful of which hashtags you use. Last but not least, going back to my first point…don’t over-edit your pictures.

#10 If you can’t afford a date, don’t do it.

I’ve been on dates where I’ve split the bill, had to pay for the bill or been expected to pay for the bill. If you aren’t going to treat, then don’t ask to eat. Go for a hike or walk instead, plenty of free things available to do in every city, google them and they’ll appreciate your creativity.